The Bad Luck of the 13th Annual Hunger Games
by littleblessing
Summary: 24 tributes, one girl and one boy from each district surrounding the Capitol of Panem are brought there for a large celebration before they are brutally murdered in an arena until one survives. This lone victor lives out the rest of their life in misery. Every year being reminded of their past by going back to the Capitol. Does your tribute have what it takes to be a Victor?
1. The Final Touches

The smile slowly spread across the gamemaker's face as the hovercraft slowly landed on the ground. She smiled at the structures before her. Perfectly built to the smallest details.

Giving a look around, she stepped on the grassy ground before her. She reached out and touched the nearest object; A tree. Shaking her head in pleasure, she reentered the hovercraft.

"Thank you." She said to her driver. The last-minute visit to the now finished arena had left her feeling pleasant and excited for this year's games. It was going to be the best.

It was the gamemaker's first year at this job, but the past 12 years of Hunger Games will be forgotten with her creation this year. Nobody would forget the gore or the new mutts. The terrain is different from past years.

Memories swam through her head as the hovercraft flew back to the Capitol. Blood was spilled here. Before the rebellion, her father beat her. But now she would turn this pain and anger towards the 24 children that will be there, until the one survivor steps forward as the crowned victor of the 13th Annual Hunger Games!

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so yes this is a Submit Your Own tribute list is in my bio. I'm gonna try to see this through and I hope you all stick with me too. Thanks! :D**

** ~littleblessing**


	2. More Brawn than Brains

"It is curious that physical courage should be so common in the world and moral courage so rare."

- Mark Twain

* * *

**District 1- Alanna Celine Fullington and Michael Derek Wagner**

Alanna hesitantly taps her mom on the shoulder. Without even glancing up from the computer screen, she asks briskly, "What? I need to catalog these couches before we leave so hurry!"

Alanna's pale face flushed into a deep scarlet. "I-I just wanted t-t-to go to the R-reaping now. . ." She said, trailing off at the end.

Alanna's mom rolled her eyes and went back to ignoring her daughter.

Taking that as a signal to leave, she rushes out of the house.

Alanna rushed to town square, putting as much space as possible in between herself and her mom and dad.

They lived a busy lifestyle. Cataloging all the exports from District 1 to the Capitol was a hard task to split among two people. This left them sleep-deprived, always busy, and perfecting the ability of ignoring their only daughter.

Sighing, Alanna ran her hand through her light brown pixie cut hair. They haven't even noticed when she had stripped herself of her luscious locks.

Signing into the Reaping, she walks to her spot in the 16 year old section where her best friends, Rachel, Ronald, and Michael were standing along with Rachel's boyfriend, Orion. The guys look uncomfortable in the girl's pen. That is, except for Orion who is hugging Rachel's waist with his chin on her head, slight messing up her straight blonde hair.

Alanna felt a pang of jealousy while looking at the happy couple. If only someone would notice her. Is she so bland with her pale skin and calculating grey eyes that even her parents won't notice her?

A plan started to form in Alanna's head. If she volunteered would she get noticed? She had no clue who was going to volunteer for the guys, but if she could win... The possibilities are endless!

* * *

"See you later Rachel! Alanna!" Ronald yells to the girls as they walk to their section with Orion. Michael keeps his eyes on Rachel's slender frame until her blonde hair disappears into the crowd.

Taking a deep breath, Michael tries to calm himself. Spiking his hair up in the front, the gel sticks to his hands. Wiping it onto his khakis shorts, Michael tries not to think about what the training academy said.

Michael is volunteering this year. He's the best and it's his turn to prove what people from District 1 can do.

He only hopes he can make it home to his friends and family. Especially Rachel.

The escort goes through the usual welcome and video. Ignoring it like always, finally it is time to draw the tribute's name.

"Shelley Trasko!" Her name echoes through the town square, and a 14 year old leaves her roped off area. She doesn't look too worried.

Soon enough multiple voices yell out only proving her safety. "I volunteer" they scream simultaneously.

The first one on the stage is the tribute, and Michael recognize her.

"What's your name?" The escort asks. "Alanna Celine Fullington!" She says. She looks excited and sick at once standing on that stage.

Breathing in as the escort draws a name, he cuts him short before even pronouncing the male tributes name.

"I volunteer! " Michael yells. He steps forward to the stage, and climbs the stairs easily. The escort is puny compared to his towering stature.

Michael searches the crowd anxiously to see those emerald green eyes belonging to the only one he's liked in a long time. Rachel's eyes brim with tears that threaten to spill over. Her two best friends are going into the games.

All of a sudden, anger overcomes Michael. It was his year to volunteer for the games. Alanna is going to have to die like the rest of the people, because he is supposed to be the Victor this year. He is going to win. He has to; for his little sister Isabelle and maybe for Rachel too.

Congratulations to the District 1 tributes for the 13th Annual Hunger Games!" Michael shakes hands with Alanna.

No turning back now!

**District 2- Crisis Tethley and Drake Black**

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Each time the throwing knives hit a target, it was dead center. Crisis didn't even have to look to know it was true. With three years of constant training, it didn't take a genius to figure these things out.

After 12 years of constant abuse from her alcoholic father she had packed her bags and left on the night of her birthday to sign up for the training academy. Living with her family was torture, and only a few can say that.

Her mom being the coward she was, turned to prostitution to help Crisis, but ended up dying at her father's hand; beaten to death in one of his drunken rages. She couldn't but take the blame for her mom's death.

Thwack!

The knife hits right under the intruder's right ear, nicking it a little, but not enough to draw blood.

"Well no wonder the entire academy is dead scared of you!" Spear said, wiggling the knife out of the wood behind him.

"Spear!" Crisis runs to her older cousin, glad for his visit before the Reaping. Tackling him, he chuckles and gives her a hug.

"You do know it's time for the Reaping, right?" Crisis look down at my sweaty black running shorts, pale bare stomach, and neon orange sports bra.

"Uhh..." Crisis says trailing off. Obviously she had thought she would've had time to change. Glancing at the clock to see if she still has time to hurriedly get changed, her heart drops. 3 minutes until she has to be there, and its a 5 minute run to get there.

Throwing her knives into the case, minus her favorite one that she tucked into the band of her running shorts. She then sprints out of the training academy. Sprinting down the cobblestone streets, turning corners as sharp as she can, Crisis almost runs into the empty table where they sign people in.

Crisis starts freaking out. She's late for the day she volunteers. She pricks her own finger and smears the blood on the open book on the table.

She can already hear the escort welcoming the crowds of people to the Reaping.

Skidding behind her, late also, Spear follows Crisis' lead to the front of the crowd. He slinks into the '18 Male' pen and Crisis tries to stay unnoticed as she moves forward towards the 15-year-old pen.

It is time for her big entrance though, so as planned she yells to the crowd, "I volunteer!"

* * *

Drake tries to stay focused on the Reaping in his own desolate spot in the 17 year old pen, but like half of the other people, he can't stop from watching Crisis Tethley inch her way to her roped off area wearing only running shorts and a neon sports bra. Well at least she isn't embarrassed about it. She's almost there when the escort click-clacks over to the female Reaping ball.

She digs her hand to the bottom, searching for the perfect slip. It doesn't matter though because everybody already knows Crisis is going to volunteer. She has no friends, but is the best in the training center. Her skill in knife throwing and talent in using her brain has scared everyone at least once in the middle of a duel.

Almost like Drake. He has no friends but Yax, who is currently talking to another guy. Unlike him though, Yax is outgoing and gets along well with anybody and everybody. Drake on the other hand is cold and unfriendly to everyone but his twin sister Alena.

Crisis yells "I volunteer" to the crowd then starts to climb the stairs eagerly. When asked her name, replies, "I am Crisis Tethley, the soon to be Victor of the 13 Hunger Games!" She ends her little speech with a smirk. Her face is transformed into a sadistic devilish smile. Her waist-long dark brown hair hangs and she looks barely sweaty from what Drake bets was a pure sprint to get here on time.

Drake furrows his brow, it's his turn to volunteer. Before the escort even fishes out a slip of paper, he raises his voice

"I volunteer!" He sprints up to the stage, not letting anybody take this as an opportunity to volunteer before he does.

Surprised by the early volunteer, the escort walks to center stage smiling and asks, "What is your name?" Drake glares at her but his emerald-green eyes shone with gold specks that made the Capital escort smile even more. Her orange makeup gives the appearance she used lots of spray tan recently, and lipstick is smeared onto her teeth. He rolls his eyes giving up.

"I am Drake Black!" He says rolling his eyes at the escort's goggling at him. He may have black wavy hair, green and gold speckled eyes, and well-built tall stature, but that doesn't give the escort permission to check him out.

Drake turns towards the slight, but deadly girl before him. She isn't smiling anymore and looks more sane now. She still has a haunted look behind her wide hazel eyes and ghostly pale skin.

He gives a menacing gaze to Crisis while the Mayor reads the Treaty of Treason. Then it is time to shake hands. When Drake reaches out to her small hand, she cracks another freaky smile.

'I'm going to beat you.' She mouths. One of his rare smiles break through the rock hard expression he had created months ago after he was informed that his parents were killed in the wild fire that caused the entire district casualties.

'doubt it.' Drake mouths back. Then, Drake and Crisis turn their back on the cheering crowds of District 2 to start their journey through the pre games until they reach the main event: the 13th Hunger Games.

**District 3- Electra Saylor and Pryce Anthony Watts**

"Dad. Dad! It's time to get up, we need to go to the Reaping now." Electra gently shakes awake her hungover dad. He groggily turns over. Electra once again shakes him, but this time he sits up, yawning loudly.

Turning around, she moves over to the next room over to wake up her two twin sisters Rene and Andie sleeping in bunk beds. Shaking them both awake, she lays out matching red plaid skirts and white blouses for them to wear today.

Turning around, in the same room, she heads over to her dresser. Pulling out a ragged looking white lace dress, she throws it onto her bed in the corner.

"Good morning Electra." Rene says, yawning loudly. She gets out of the bottom bunk and move towards the outfits laid on the floor.

Electra smiles at her six year old sister, smiling even more as Andie drowsily climbs the ladder down from her high up were her responsibility, but Electra didn't care, she loved them too much! They change quickly, and Electra puts the lace dress on.

Today is the Reaping and considered a holiday. Everyone is let off of their jobs in District 3, and people dress up and converge in the town square in front of the Justice Building. The Capitalites use this as a time to celebrate but the Districts as far as her knowledge did anything but.

Taking an old wire brush from the top of her dusty dresser, Electra pulled it through her wavy auburn hair. She watched herself in the cracked mirror that hung across the room. She watched every small movement she made. A flick of her wrist, flipping her hair back slightly, undoing small knots that had formed overnight, blinking her electric blue eyes. She was aware of every movement.

Turning around, Electra focused her attention on the twin girl's crazy hair. It was a darker shade of auburn, with tones of brown, but still they looked like miniature Electras. Brushing this out, they went through to the front room of their small shack. Rene and Andie sat at the worn oak table, and their dad came out of his room dressed, but not exactly looking the best.

Ever since his wife, her mom, had run away 5 years ago, he had started to drown his self-blame in alcohol. This quickly turned to an addiction, and ever since he's either been completely drunk and out of it, or suffering a major hangover. Today was the latter.

Electra set out a small loaf of bread in front of the twins. They were taking the food problem day by day, and Rene and Andie would always eat before Electra and her dad. THey scarfed the bread down quickly and jumped down from their seats.

Taking one twin on each hand, leaving her dad at the table, Electra set out for the Reaping. She had them follow her until the small group reached the sign in table. Electra lead the two girls over to a spot in front of the adults.

"I want you two to stand here until I come back to get you ok?" She tells the twins. They plop down on the dusty ground and nod their heads sullenly. Electra keeps her eyes on the twins as she walks to the sign up table. According to her, the small girls had no clue what this was for or why two people were taken away each year.

Signing in, she then walks up near the front where the 14-year-old section is placed, and moves her way to the outside spots.

"Oh look its her!" A taller girl with curly blonde hair walks up to Electra. Her small mouth hardens into a neat line, and she looks forward.

"She's so tiny, and ugly. She isn't even smart!" Clarissa Yertzer says, flicking her hair back. Her posse of three or four girls laugh cruelly from behind their leader, and Electra straightens her posture to the 5 foot 4 inches she can be. She clenches her fist.

"She's just a street rat!" Another cruel laugh.

Electra charges. Her fists are up and she hits with a right hook at Clarissa's nose. She hears a satisfying crack. Blood gushes down and gets all over the front of Electra's dress.

By now the peacekeepers hear the fight and move in to stop it from proceeding further. They don't get there in time though because Electra winds up her left fist and punches with all the force she can at the mean girl's eye.

'There! That'll show her!' Is what Electra is thinking as the peacekeepers drag her off of Clarissa, then moving her across the pen. They may have moved her, but that bully isn't going to keep picking on Electra, especially now that Clarissa knows she's not afraid to throw a punch.

* * *

"Welcome! Welcome!" The Capital escort's squeaky accent awakes Pryce from his read about engineering. He had just got it today from moments ago from his friend Lexus Probst. Lexus was still droning on and on about some fight the girls had in the 14 year old section.

Turning back to the book, Pryce ignore Lexus and our escort.

_Engineering is the application of scientific, economic, social, and practical knowledge in order to design, build, and maintain structures, machines, devices, systems, materials and processes. It may encompass using insights to conceive, model and scale an appropriate solution to a problem or objective. The discipline of engineering is extremely broad, and encompasses a range of more specialized fields of engineering, each with a more specific emphasis on particular areas of technology and types of application._

Hmm... interesting. Looking down at the list of specialized fields engineering is used.

_Chemical, civil, electrical, and mechanical engineering. Fascinating! They have even more not as well known such as mining and naval engineering._

"Electra Saylor!" The name is announced but Pryce is too engrossed in his book to notice anything but a pale girl, stiff as a board walking up the steps. He hears two girls crying in the background. Ignoring it though, he looks down at his book again.

_Chemical engineering is the application of physics, chemistry, biology, and engineering principles in order to carry out chemical processes on a commercial scale._

"Pryce Anthony Watts!"

He looks up, shocked to find his name announced through the microphone.

"What?" Pryce asks. He turns to Lexus who has stopped talking and looking at him terrified. His eyes wide and mouth gaping open like a fish.

The soon-to-be tribute pushes his wide rimmed glasses up his nose, trying to see everything through the thick lenses. Everybody is staring at him shocked and sad.

Peacekeepers push through the crowds and realization hits him like a slap to the face. He was reaped. He's going into the Hunger Games. He hadn't even taken any tesserae. The probability of him being drawn was 21.4% considering the drawings were rigged to get mostly an age range of 15-17. If no one had taken tesserae. But they did! So his chances were less than 1% with the 6 slips he had. These math equations solved themselves like wildfire and his brain was in autopilot. He was done calculating the odds when the peacekeepers reach him.

Pryce is going into the games. He's pushed and prodded up to the stage, and drops his book about engineering halfway there. Once on stage looking at his District and home, he knows he has what it takes to come home.

He's been preparing. Training by himself, just in case this happened so he could come home to his mom and dad. He's been prepared for a couple of years now.

Towering above the small girl with the bloodstained dress, he promises himself he will come home.

Then he walks off the stage into the Justice Building where his fate awaits. The careers may have the brawn and force to execute plans, but Pryce has the brains to outwit them.

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**A/N: Well I hope you like it. I've had so many people editing, reading, checking for errors for you guys. Just trying to be perfect I guess. By the way, I don't own the Hunger Games or any of the smart stuff about engineering. That's from Wikipedia! ;) Well I hope you enjoyed this chapter, more to come soon.**

**And don't forget to review!**

**~littleblessing**


	3. Mentally Disabled Physically Able

"I've got to find my way, and I will survive some way."

- Tarzan from Disney's Tarzan

* * *

**District 4- Ivory Nightlock and Harry Ian**

"C'mon Ivory!" Ebony yells at her older sister from her stretch on the beach. She has been doing cartwheels past her older sister for 10 minutes now.

"No, you c'mon! We need to get to the Reaping before they start without us." Ivory yells back back, brushing sand off of her sea-green flowing dress.

Picking her way through the sand to the sidewalk, Ivory carried her shoes, despite it being midday and burning up on the beach. District 4 residents were used to that.

Hopping onto the sidewalk, Ebony glumly followed her older sister.

"What's wrong girly?" Ivory asks, looking down. Ebony looks up at her older sister's creased with worry sea-green eyes. They were surrounded with a fringe of dark eyelashes.

Trying to smile, Ebony replies to her query, "It's my first year in the Reaping bowl." Ivory understood immediately.

Oh girly! You won't get picked, and if you do there are volunteers here most of the time. Remember?" Ivory says, she's almost 99% sure her little sister won't be called.

By then, Ivory and Ebony had reached the table where they prick their finger. Ivory gasped slightly when she felt the quick pain on her pointer finger. Trying not to look at her own blood in case she gets woozy, she sticks her finger in her mouth to suck away the coppery red substance.

"I'll see you after the Reaping!" Ivory says, watching her twelve-year-old sister get swept away by the crowd to her section. Smiling at her, and humming a jolly sailor tune, Ivory followed the crowd to her section with the 14-year-olds.

She noticeably looks at the 15-year-olds longingly, wishing her best friend wasn't six months older than herself. Or that her birthday wasn't a week from now.

Turning to face the brightly colored and feathered escort on stage, she started chatting away on the microphone to the whole of District 4. Ivory once again glances at April May's blonde headed figure; Also known as, her best friend and neighbor.

The feedback from the microphone on stage makes the entire District flinch, but it does grab everybody's attention. Everybody's heads noticeably turns towards the stage and the waiting capital lady, or was that a man? Her brow furrowed from thinking. Eventually Ivory decided; It's a he-she.

"Now it is time to draw the girl's name out of the Reaping ball!" The he-she says. The he-she skips over in her towering heels to the ball. She plunges her hand to the very bottom of the glass bowl and plucks a slip out.

One thought is running through Ivory's head over and over again. Not Ebony. Not Ebony. Please not Ebony. Well, it's not Ebony.

"Ivory Nightlock!" Her eyes widen and the blood drains from her scared expression. Ivory goes stiff from shock. Ebony isn't going into the Hunger Games, Ivory is.

* * *

Harry Ian watches from the 17-year-old area as a shell-shocked looking girl slowly treads to the stage, splitting the girl's section like the Red Sea. She has been sentenced to a most likely gruesome death. Soon an unlucky lad would join her.

Harry looks back over the head's of the crowd, trying to pinpoint the spot where his hungover or drunk mother should be. His hard-working but fearful dad, would be next to her, and his 8-year-old sister named Noelie. Noelie was carrying her brown bunny, Cola, as always to the Reaping.

Harry couldn't find his family though so he turned back to the stage. The escort was ruffling her chestnut hair, messing the perfect ringlets askew. After that, the escort once again walks over to the Reaping ball.

She teasingly lowered her freshly manicured hand into the bowl grabbing multiple slips. She lets them fall one by one until they were all back into the bowl. She hovered her hand over the papers again and picked the top one.

She almost ran back to the mic, earning a curious gaze from Ivory when she patted her on the back. 'Ivory is so naive,' Harry thought. He was surprised he even remembered her name.

She had a hard time opening the slip, and the Harry rolled his eyes at her giggling. Finally, she got the slip open and she read the name.

"Harry Ian!" Harry felt numbness creep over him and he started to put up his facade. It was tough, but practice through the years of hiding his emotion and staying cool and calm in front of his little sister. It took a lot to panic him, even to bother him. This did though. He was going into the Hunger Games.

Harry lazily smiles as he makes his way up to the stage. He climbs the steps confidently, still with the lazy smile across his face giving the audience the impression he didn't care he was Reaped and that he was ready to fight and win.

That wasn't true though, not at all. He was more worried for Noelie considering nobody would take care of her. His father was too busy and his mother barely aware of the real world. That was his job; to care for Noelie. Harry would fish with her, go swimming, catch her pets such as Cola her bunny, take walks on the beach collecting shells, and if they so happened to find shark teeth, they would make necklaces with them and the shells.

Noelie was Harry's everything. He cared for her and loved her and in return Noelie looked up to him.

Noelie connected eyes with him now. His sea green eyes connected with her hazel ones that were brimmed with tears. In that moment, Harry promised himself no matter what, even if he would have to kill, he would survive and find his way home. One day. One day after the arena is done haunting him and when he finally accepts his past- Er well future from right now.

He finishes climbing the stairs and makes his way over to center stage.

He ran his hand through his unkempt bronze waves, looking back to Ivory. She fidgets when Harry looks down at her.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, gripping his glasses tightly. He didn't need them unless he was reading, but he had them on him just in case. Random thoughts like this run through Harry's mind as he stands on stage.

"May I present your tributes from District 4; Ivory Nightlock and Harry Ian!" The escort says, smiling at the nearest camera.

The audience applauds lightly, and the two most-likely doomed tributes shake hands and exit the stage.

**District 5- Xaryia Helena Willowwind and Jordan Shien**

_The greasy haired man stripped Xaryia of her ragged clothing. He explored her once hidden body, touching every hill and valley. Xaryia shivered, closing her eyes trying to imagine she's anywhere, but there._

_The disgusting man finishes with Xaryia and she's completely sore. The man raping her was always what Xaryia dreaded and left her feeling low on herself. The man grinned evilly and threw her outside onto the dusty ground, still naked._

_Anastasia, Xaryia's best friend since childhood, crawled over to her friend, clutching her stomach from pain. She may have been pregnant from previous times, bruised from the beatings, or suffering severe hunger pangs from not being fed for days. Xaryia would never know._

_The same greasy-haired assaulter started kicking her in the stomach causing her to fall on the ground next to Anastasia. Pain blossomed as Xaryia's head was repeatedly kicked until all pain was gone and it was a black void of nothingness in front of her._

The sound of screaming awakens Xaryia from her episode. Her screaming. Tears fall freely from her eyes. She curls into a ball already knowing what would happen next. Anastasia was raped and died in her arms. Xaryia's absolute best friend and only female one died at age 10 from those monsters. Then, she would escape from District 8 where the men had taken them, and come back home to District 5. That was at least until she met them.

She wasn't supposed to discuss them. Not even mention them in passing. They trained her and helped her stay off of the radar. She didn't even like thinking their names. Xaryia didn't want to give their position away because currently they were still unknown to the Capitol.

Xaryia's door is slammed open and Ryan, Anastasia's older brother and now her best friend, comes running through the door. He assesses the scene before him and sits down next to a still sobbing Xaryia.

She was 18 and was still having the flashbacks from eight years ago. This was post-traumatic stress disorder. Xaryia had been having constant nightmares and sometimes even episodes where she would completely black out, stuck in the memories.

"C'mon girl, we have to get going; today's the Reaping." Ryan says breaking Xaryia from her own world of living in the past. "I couldn't get you out this year for the drawing, but it's your last year." Ryan was referring to the two previous years she had gotten away without a single slip thanks to her best friend. He had plead for insanity and considering nobody recognized her they agreed. It wasn't going to work this year though.

Ryan scoops up Xaryia, carrying her to the Reaping. She was still wearing her black leggings and slightly ruffled plaid shirt with her hair in a dark auburn side ponytail, slightly twisted on the sides.

Ryan signs her in easily, still carrying her when he drops her off at the back section. Setting his little-sister replacement down in the back, Ryan ducks under the rope separators.

Xaryia clenches her eyes closed again and opens them again, renewed with a new vigor and fury.

The Reaping was soon to start, and Xaryia was quick to ignore. She wasn't getting picked, so instead of fretting, she kept her watchful gaze on the fellow girls, glaring if they dared to make eye contact.

"Xaryia Helena Willowwind!"

The name- No, her name!- bounced around the town square.

Reality started to turn fuzzy around Xaryia, a sure sign an episode was coming. Right before she fainted though, one thought ran across her memory strewed brain, 'Mentally disabled; physically able. . .' Then, she crashed down screaming as peacekeepers started to fight towards her from the outside of the crowd.

* * *

Jordan watched from the 12 year old section the screaming girl in the back. Her name had just been called for the Hunger Games and she had fallen to the ground screaming moments later. The peacekeepers had rushed to help, but found her in a ball on the ground sobbing and screaming her lungs out.

Of course, Jordan didn't see any of this, rumors were swirling all through the teenagers, all of them either guessing at what had happened or watched it firsthand.

The escort on stage started to shift on stage, still holding open the slip of paper. She was obviously uncomfortable with this turn of events Jordan concluded.

"Well, uh . . . let's get Xaryia up here shall we?" The escort asked. Emerging from the crowd of gun-clad peacekeepers stood a tall black haired man who looked too old to be in the Reaping ball. His face was worn from worry and stress and Jordan could tell right away he dealt with this almost daily.

But the way he looked at her. Jordan may've been only 12, but he knew that look. Love. The man loved the dark auburn haired wreck of a girl. She was still curled in the fetal position and the man was carrying her up the stairs, trying not to jostle her too much.

The escort still looked flabbergasted from this turn of events. "Well-uh- is this Xaryia?" She asks. The man nods his head yes, not looking away from the girls still tear covered face.

"And you are?" The escort says now pressing for information to what happened, not only just his name.

"Ryan" he grunts. Jordan looks around at his classmates. They were clustered in groups talking about what had just happened. He was alone though. He grew up on the streets with the rats. No friends, just a mom, dad, and older sister named Katherine who had to sell her body for food and money for Jordan. He shivered at the memories.

"Well time for the male tribute." The escort says. She gets the small slip of paper open easily and reads the name.

Holding his breath with hope and pushing his chin-length flaxen blond hair behind his ear, all Jordan does is hope. Hope it's not his name and he won't be picked in his first year in the Reaping bowl.

"Jordan Shien!"

All hope flies away leaving a small boy with broken dreams. He will soon be dead. His negative outlook on life didn't help in this situation.

Jordan climbed the stairs to the top of the stage with a heavy heart, taking his assigned place next to Ryan who is still holding Xaryia. She's still quietly crying, but isn't screaming anymore thankfully.

When it is time to shake hands, Jordan awkwardly looks up at Ryan. Ryan's way taller than the 12-year-old boy. Ryan shrugs his shoulders and turns around, entering the Justice Building with Jordan quick on his heels.

"Well- Uh- Xaryia and Jordan everyone!" The escort says, then scampers off of the stage.

**District 6- Ryleigh Rebekka Ford and Loken Polad**

Ryleigh held her breath, listening. She was laying on her stomach on the dusty ground, dirtying her ragged clothes even more. The buzzing of electricity told her the fence was alive and lethal. She would have to find another way into District 6 before the sun came up.

Jumping up from the ground, Ryleigh started walking again. The dark blue sky was starting to lighten in the east. Ryleigh kept walking. The trees were above her, the forest to her left, and District 6 to her right.

She had to get in. She had to escape from her peacekeeper mother in District 5, even though her little sister Ravine was paralyzed from the neck down. Mother wouldn't let Ryleigh volunteer so she had to leave her District and come here; to District 6.

Ryleigh grew up in District 5 with a peacekeeper mother who barely paid attention to her two daughters, Ryleigh and Raschel, because she was so busy. Raschel eventually died in the Hunger Games by eating nightlock, a poisonous berry. That is the main reason Ryleigh spent years memorizing all edible and poisonous and helpful plants.

By then, she had made it to the train tracks. They ran through the tall grasses leaving a trail to follow to an entrance to the district of transportation. An entrance to get through.

Ryleigh follows the tracks, staying in between not touching any of them that are alive with electricity.

Soon, she had made it into the train station. Climbing onto the sidewalk that rested three feet above the tracks, Ryleigh started to run out of the station before anybody noticed the odd girl that doesn't even belong in this district. She originates from District 5.

By now the sky had turned light blue, and the wispy white clouds were painted across it making it a nice day to be outside. The Reaping should be starting any minute now.

Ryleigh slinks to the middle of the District, which isn't that big when compared to District 5, and walks to the front where the 12-year-olds are positioned. Truthfully she should be back farther, she's four years older than the preteens surrounding her. She could pass as one of them though because of her short size.

When the female escort walked over to the girl's reaping ball, she drew a name from the top of the pile and walks back over to the microphone again, as if trying to get this over with quickly.

"Lulu Aquira!"

A sniffling black-haired girl next to Ryleigh turned stiff and started walking over to the stage steps. By now, tears were streaming down her face pathetically. Ryleigh smirked, she wouldn't last in the arena at all.

"I volunteer!" Ryleigh announces. Lulu's eyes opened wide in shock and she started to gape like a fish. Ryleigh rolled her eyes and replaced the black-haired babe on stage.

"And your name is. . . ?" The escort asks, waiting for the surprise volunteer to tell the waiting crowd her name. She clearly just wants to move on.

"I am Ryleigh Rebekka Ford!" She says proudly. Nobody recognised the dirty blond haired girl with the freckles she had on show. Her wide blue eyes showed innocence, but her wicked smirk and bloodthirsty gaze told a different story.

She had escaped her District to volunteer without repercussions from her peacekeeper mother, and now she was following through with her plans.

* * *

The girl on stage looks deadly, murderous even, and all Loken was thinking was that he didn't want to go in the games; especially not against her.

Loken cracked his knuckles loudly: he was nervous and the loud cracking sound always seemed to give him his nerve back. He didn't want to be here right now, all he wanted was to get away.

He didn't really like his classmates, and this being his last Reaping, Loken was content to stay away from all of them and instead read and help schedule trains with his mom and dad.

Loken was smart and didn't want to have to talk or even communicate with these people who taunted him for being a teacher's pet and loving to read.

The escort, Killigan Gurtro, walked over to the other Reaping ball, opposite to where she was before. She dug her hand through the slips of paper, pulling one out after a second.. Sickening, in Loken's opinion; that the escort didn't even care about the tributes demise in a couple weeks.

Killigan half ran over to the microphone, almost falling flat on her face when Ryleigh sticks her foot out slightly. She smiled sweetly when Killigan looked at her.

Panting slightly, she read the name to the baited crowd all holding their breath.

"Loken Polad!"

No! It couldn't have been his name. Of all of the names they had to pick one of his slips. He only has seven slips because he's well-off. But fate was against him. Obviously, it was his turn to go into the Hunger Games with this terrifying little girl.

Loken takes heavy steps to the short girl. His pale face even more white if possible, his hands trembling, and him trying to take deep breaths.

The audience looks at the small girl. She's deadly and would most likely kill without hesitation. Then, they looked at the escort, Killigan, feathered and bejeweled, straight from the Capital. Lastly, at the pale skinned, nerdy looking boy with dark hair who would probably barely last passed the pre games.

Loken knew this year would certainly be interesting, and the audience definitely agreed.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, I'm sorry if I didn't portray your character the same way envisioned, or changed the past a little. I'm sorry, but I did some research that effected the characters. Also, all loose ends with their pasts will come together through the story, but mostly in the family goodbye's I'm hoping.**

**Constructive criticism is welcomed. I love reviews, but I'm just here to write and have feedback about what you do and don't like about my story. My updates are most likely going to be sporadic whenever I have time to update. Soccer season just started, and schools starts Monday, so it may take a little bit. AND I discovered something called "Modern Day Clato"! Lol.**

**~littleblessing**


	4. Laughing in the Face of Danger

"There is no such thing as bravery, only varying degrees of fear."

- John Wainwright

* * *

**District 7- Azalea "Lea" Sylvonna and Kevin Blake**

"C'mon Lea!" Azalea's younger brother, Oak, said, shaking her shoulder. Groggily she opens an eye. "People are walking by!" Oak says, once again vainly trying to interrupt her 12-year-old sister's sleep.

Azalea keeps her left eye closed, and her other bright green eye on her younger brother's shadow. The information slowly gets processed through her still half-asleep mind.

She scrambles into a standing position. The Reaping is today. Worry is strewn across her dirt smudged face, and her little brother Oak jumps up too. It's her first year in the Reaping, but Oak still has two years before his name is anywhere near the drawing ball.

Grabbing his small hand, she maneuvers them out of their sleeping place; Behind a couple boxes in a small back alley. Currently, the Sylvonna kids were alone in the more urban part of District 7. She had known about the Reaping while picking their sleeping place but had forgotten about the soon-to-be terrors as she had drifted into dreamland.

There was a reason they were on the streets though. Why both of them were stick thin with hungry tummies. Why they slept on concrete and had rags for clothes. Their parents had disowned Azalea and Oak. It wasn't a happy time. The only happy thing coming out of it is Azalea discovering her prowess with throwing knives along with axes.

Azalea was fast-forwarded out of the past back to where she was. Now she was the one trying to get her brother to move. "C'mon! We need to get to the Reaping! She says urgently. They scurry from their makeshift bedroom for the night over to the crowds of people.

Oak makes his way to the waiting people, glancing back at his big sister. Before he walks away he mouths six words to Azalea.

She smiles, her small mouth stretching wide creating dimples in her cheeks. She makes her way to the front of the crowd of teenagers with the few stragglers that hadn't come earlier.

She pulls at her ragged clothes, trying to cover her tan arms. People are staring. All up her arms there are white dots. Scars to be are so many of them. They were all up her forearm and stopped at the crook of both elbows. Another thing different about her compared to the rest of District 7.

She tugs on the hem of her shirt, trying to cover the stains and rips on it, and the scars on her arms. Too much stuff to hide from the rest of the world.

The Reaping starts then, bringing her from her drowsy thinking. About time too; the Reaping was late. And it was common knowledge the escorts like being on time. As it turns out they have a new lady escort. Obviously for her, this year's theme was feathers. Her brow is covered in them, all multicolor and coming up and over her hairline; almost like a crown. She has a peacock feather dress on, and hanging from her droopy earlobes were feathers hanging to her waist.

The escort looks really nervous, and stutters through her welcome to the large crowd. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves, then she moves to the large paper-filled girl's Reaping ball.

Azalea starts to bite her lip nervously and plays with the tips of her long, wavy light brown hair. Her eyes wide with doesn't want to die, she has her little brother to take care of.

The escort prances back to the microphone with a single slip of heavy stock paper in her hand. Up in the sunny blue sky a red-tailed hawk soars around, watching the scene below.

What Oak had mouthed comes to the forefront of her mind as the name is called. If only she had that luck. 'Good luck! I love you Lea!'

"Azalea Sylvonna!"

Up above, the hawk gives a mournful cry. Almost as if it knows what fate awaited the girl, but maybe, it did.

* * *

A tan girl with dirty clothes, and tears brimming over her big green eyes steps out from the front. Kevin stands taller than most of the guys in the 17-year-old section in which he's placed. His tall 6'5" stature towers over the wimps that don't work in the lumber yards. He does though so his frame is large too.

The small girl with the freckles over the bridge of her upturned nose starts to trudge to the stairs. By now, trails of tears are dripping onto her mangled mess of a shirt. She ignores them though, and starts to climb the stairs. Kevin laughs at her on the inside.

On stage she starts to walk over to the escort. She had stopped crying so freely, but her eyes still had a watery sheen and her bottom lip quivered.

Kevin watches as she makes her way to center stage. She's kinda pathetic in a sad way, he thinks. Oh well, she's gonna have to go down.

A crazy grin starts to occupy his face, and his light blue eyes have a terrifying glint to them. Nobody knew that this would happen but his girlfriend Amy Whitehall. In fact, she was looking at him right now, mirroring his expression. She wasn't going to volunteer though, she knew he was. Amy loved him.

Amy was obsessed with death. Kevin didn't mind though, it was a little quirk of hers. They had barely been dating for a week, and his charming good looks had already won over her better judgement of Kevin's full of himself attitude and constant training. Training for the games, to get better than he is.

He smirks back at her gaze, and her pale face turns pink. Kevin doesn't love her back. She's just another trophy girlfriend he's had. And he's had many in the past. Oh well.

The escort prances back with another slip of paper, her feather earrings swinging wildly. She makes it to the microphone by tripping over thin air, and it seems her nerves have returned from earlier.

She flicks open the paper and clears her throat before reading the name.

"Theodore Roote!"

Kevin quickly steps into the walkway between the two genders raising his hand, then his voice. "I volunteer!"

He walks forward leisurely, smirking on his way. Kevin still didn't understand why he had wanted to train since he was 9. Or why he wanted to volunteer. Or why he wanted to waste all of his good looks on saving this 13-year-old's butt. He didn't know. Kevin just knew it was his turn in the games and to try to win. Win or die trying that is.

"And you are?" The escort asks? She raises one eyebrow so her crown of feathers is higher up on one side.

"I am Kevin Blake." He says, giving a smirk to the nearest camera.

"Well aren't you a brave one!" The escort says, squeaking in her excitement. She is looking so excited that her first time as an escort there was a volunteer from an outlying district. Kevin looked to the crowd and saw Amy beaming at him.

"There is no such thing as bravery ma'am. Only varying extents of fear, and I am not fearful." Kevin says this while rolling his light blue eyes at the camera.

The Mayor speed reads through his speech, and Kevin doesn't pay attention. After minutes that stretch out longer than thought possible, Azalea and Kevin shake hands.

"May I present the tribute from District 7: Azalea Sylvonna and Kevin Blake!" The escort says, then bustles them off of the stage, into the Justice Building where they will say their goodbyes.

**District 8- Meredith Phillips and Jackson Stawrt**

"Meredith sweetie it's time for you to change for the Reaping!" Cashmere Phillips, also known as one of the most famous fashion designers in the Capitol and Meredith's mom.

"But Mum, I don't have any new dresses to wear." A blonde head poked out of the bedroom door on the second floor. She was still wearing her light pink silk nightgown.

Her mum beamed as she climbed the stairs to her 18 year old daughter's room. She was technically an adult, but Meredith was pampered like a spoiled brat. Her on top of the world attitude and knowing she was pretty much the image of perfection with her blonde hair and blue-green eyes also didn't help her ego. She had a little problem though that left her body malnourished and herself quite sickly at times.

"That's why I got you this!" Meredith's Mum says, pulling a lovely golden dress out of her daughter's stuffed to the brim closet. There were diamonds scattered around the gold and on the square neckline. On the tag it read "A one-of-a-kind Phillips Creation."

"Oooh! I love it! Thank you Mum!" Meredith squealed, jumping around like an excited 8-year-old while in reality she was 10 years older than that.

Snatching the dress from her mother's hands, Meredith Phillips scurried to her extravagant bathroom across the hall. She put the dress on and twirls in front of the mirror. She watches her reflection closely, and grimaces at the sight of her stomach.

Other then that, she thought her image was perfect. Pulling her blonde curls into a bump then ponytail.

She unlocks the door then daintily makes her way down the stairs, listening to the soothing click-clack of her shoes on the mahogany staircase. Entering the kitchen, Meredith sees her father reading the Capitol newspaper and for the umpteenth time she wonders how he got it.

"Morning Papa!" She says, giving him a hug and then moving towards the fridge. She opens the fridge, not bothered by its rareness in District 8, but wondering what she'll eat today; If she eats that is. Deciding on an orange, she takes the bright fruit from the drawer in the fridge and makes her way to the door.

"I'm going to the Reaping Papa. I'll see you afterwards." Then makes her way down the painted white wooden steps onto the dusty path into the District. Throwing the orange peels behind her as she goes, she sucks on the sweet juices coming from the slices until her hands are sticky and sweet with the juices and orange peelings littered in a path to where she stands on the edge of the town square.

She flounces her way to the front of the line and all the other children what she takes as envious looks when in reality disgust is mingled among the dirt-smudged faces. Meredith gets her finger pricked and makes her way to the nearest roped off area. She smiles smugly as she is soon flocked to by her four followers like a moth to a babble meaningless stuff until the microphone is tapped.

Everybody turns their attention to the stage, except for a bushy haired girl next to Meredith who keeps babbling.

"-I wanna be just like you. You're so pretty and I love your dress!-" Meredith rolls her eyes but smiled to herself at the compliments. She doesn't need the girl to know how much the compliments mean to her.

"Shut up Rina!" Meredith hisses at the over-exuberant girl. She looks up at her idol with big brown eyes.

"Her names Reena, and I'm Acrylic." Meredith turns to the dirty-blonde freckled girl who is standing on her right. By now the escort was walking over to pick the names for the girl's.

"It doesn't even matter." Meredith says impatiently staring down the girl with her bright blue-green eyes. The escort was practically skipping back towards the microphone.

"Well you ARE her idol." Acrylic says putting her hands on her hips. "You are Meredith, right? The one and only rich girl with beauty beyond any others?" A heavy sarcasm starts to drip off the girl's words and Meredith realizes; this is real envy.

By now all the girl's in the section were listening to the conversation.

"The one who gets what she wants since she was in diapers? Who never missed a meal?-" "You have no clue about me!" Meredith hissed, her eyes in slits, her face red from anger, and her tiny fists clenched.

Acrylic grins at the angry girl and glances back to the stage. She loves for once being able to stand up to the posse leader. "What makes you so special huh? You being-"

"Meredith Phillips!"

The freckled girl looks around in confusion. Why did Meredith's name get announced. Her cluelessness is humorous to the popular girl and she lets out a tinkling laugh. It soon silences though and gets carried away by the wind.

The day she gets turned on from her posse is the day she is called for the Hunger Games, can the day get any worse for Meredith?

* * *

A blonde-haired girl's name gets called, shortly followed by a tinkling laugh; like wind chimes on a breezy day. Jackson watches in wonder as a 18 year old girl with fair skin comes from the back of the crowd with a wide smile painted on her face.

He couldn't wrap the fact around his mind that this girl is laughing in the face of death.

Once she reaches the stairs, she climbs up willingly, still holding her wide smile. The escort looks thrilled to have a willing tribute.

Jackson watches her carefully. He doesn't know her because he isn't in the District on most occasions. In fact, Reaping day is the only day he's back from the Capitol.

Jackson is a performer. A gymnast when you get down to the specifics. He performs at parties and travels around the Capitol until the dreaded Reaping. He supports his family quite well.

If Jackson was to go into the Hunger Games, his performing days would be over and his 13-year-old younger brother Chase would have to take tesserae.

Jackson sure didn't want his 13 year old brother to go into the Hunger Games, especially if he was three years older and had a say in things.

The escort reaches her pale makeup-clad hands into the bowl filled with slips of paper. 'How do you even keep makeup on your hands?' was the inconsequential trying to distract Jackson as he watched the escort once again canter over to the mic.

She flicked the paper open carelessly and read the dark ink to the waiting multitude of people.

"Jackson Stawrt!"

The name echoed around the center of District 8. Jackson's name rang through everyone's head, and almost in unison, the pitiful eyes onto him like a spotlight.

"What?! No!" His voice weakly travelled over the heads of everyone. In the background sobs of his family was heard. Jackson, no matter what was said Jackson wasn't going to see his friends from District 7 again: Avis Dernt and Briar Junle. He would never admit his feelings for Briar. Or perform in front of the people at parties. Or come home to his five siblings that use him as a jungle gym and marvel at his tricks. None of that.

Jackson started to crumble, emotions brought to the surface. Then he cut them off. Dropped the anchor into the deep end. He would come home.

That's what Jackson thought as he shook hands with the blonde girl, still grinning ear-to-ear. Jackson just hoped he could make it through.

**District 9- Ruby Stride and Sage Kubovy**

"Get up! Get up! Get up!" Ruby's mom yelled through the open doorway, popping her head in for good measure to make sure her 13-year-old daughter who was sluggishly rubbing her blue eyes.

She lurched out of bed, trying to hold onto the last wisps of dreams that were starting to be replaced by reality. She hugged herself around the middle and walked to the open door still wearing a tank-top and short-shorts.

Into the next room she went, walking into a discussion among her dad and older brother Dimitrius. Ruby didn't even know what the topic was.

"Ehemm!" Ruby cleared her throat and Dimitrius turned his head to look at his little sister still trying to wake up.

"The Reaping is in 20 minutes you know?" He said, with a small grin on his face. His dirty blonde hair, dark blue eyes and tan skin was in deep contrast to his little sister's ghostly pale complexion and flaxen blonde hair.

"Really?!" Ruby's eyebrows shot up and she looked worried. "Why didn't you tell me?" Ruby turned around and ran back into the room behind her where a white skirt was laying out.

She slid white the white skirt on, then a royal blue top. It had a dipped neckline and displayed the contrasting silver keychain with a ruby as red as blood and the size of her pinky nail.

"Today is your second Reaping. …" Ruby muttered to herself. She was trying to comfort herself with the fact two slips read "Ruby Stride".

'Don't even try to get yourself nervous. You have barely any chance to be picked'. Thoughts were burning faster than wildfire. Her palms were already sweaty. Ruby took a deep breath.

Turning around, Ruby marveled at herself in the mirror. Her white blonde hair hung in waves down to her shoulder blades and she had a small hopeful smile on her face.

Rushing out of the room because Ruby knew she took at least 15 minutes to get ready despite already having her outfit picked out. The only good part about where she lived, was it was in the middle of town. Right outside her door should be where people were getting in line to sign in.

Turning her slim pointed nose into the air and furrowing her white eyelashes until she saw the wisps of hair. She looked stuck up and bratty, exactly how Ruby wanted to be.

The only thing that showed her true colors were the dark bags under her eyes and sickly thin body.

In the front of the line now, Ruby's finger was pricked and swiped onto one of the last pages of the book.

A bead of blood remained on Ruby's slim white finger contrasting deeply with the paleness in her skin. The origin of her name. Her blood as red as the Ruby keychain that's been passed down since this area was called "Montana".

She cantered to the front of the crowds of girls in their "expensive wear" or whatever wasn't ridden with dirt from work in the fields.

Ruby must've looked nervous still because when she approached her friends it was the first thing pointed out to her by Maple and Alice.

"What's wrong Ruby? Feeling nervous...?" Maple offered a sly grin, "You look scared as a ghost!" She asked almost innocently. Almost.

"Stop making pale jokes again!" Ruby whisper-shouted. She tried making a scowl but soon was laughing along with Maple and Alice.

Ruby was a somewhat popular in District 9. She had three good friends and younger girls looking up to her because of her quick thinking, sass, and kindness towards them. Maple Brooks, a tall girl with green eyes and dark brown hair. She had a fiery personality, and sarcasm was one of her fortes. Alice Pinsweep on the other hand was a quiet and somewhat shy girl who was relatively only said something after thinking through and editing her words.

Ruby's third friend was in fact a guy. Ruby just happened to like him to. His name was Tim Tobber. He had dark hair and eyes, and loved kids.

Ruby took a swift glance over to where he was standing, perfect as ever, watching the escort titter on about unimportant topics. That's until she started walking to the giant glass Reaping bowl.

"Ready to get picked?" Maple said jokingly, cracking a smile. Jokes covered her nervousness, but Maple's shaking hands gave up her facade.

The escort almost tripped back over to the microphone where she nervously giggled while turning a brilliant shade of magenta. She starts to say a name, but her voice is too quiet to be picked up by the mic. Her face gets brighter.

"Ruby Stride!" This time it's audible.

"No! Wait! I volunteer!" Maple is pale despite her chestnut colored skin, and her hands fly to her mouth as soon as the words are spoken. Ruby looks at her shocked best friend. She can't let Maple take her place.

"No… I'll go…." Ruby says quietly to her best friend. She turns around, trying not to look at Tim's wide dark eyes, open in shock, or Dimitrius' eyes shiny with almost tears. This was almost identical to when Seth, Dimitrius' best pal went into the arena last year.

Ruby took a deep breath and took the first step up to the stage, to start this new journey she might not return from.

* * *

Sage watches as a pale girl goes up to the stage. No one knows if it's the Ruby or the other girl who had tried to volunteer. Sage stands in the 14-year-old section, watching the unhealthily pale girl take to the stage. Her eyes are trailing over the back section.

Sage shifts foot to foot and scowls. Nothing unpleasant brought to the forefront of his mind, just scowling because it was his main expression. He had his dark long hair in a low ponytail around the nape of his neck and his hazel eyes furrowed from his glower.

Sage was a practical kid. He loved practical applications, especially with school examples and hated the abstraction placed in theory. For example: Everyone's theory was that the names were different in the drawing bowl. Sage knew otherwise.

Last year, curiosity had gotten better of him and after the Reaping, he had scurried behind the Justice Building where the Reaping bowls were rolled to. He had drawn his hand in deeply and grabbed multiple slips of paper. They all read the same: Seth Martine. Seth Martine. Seth Martine.

The theory was proven wrong, but Sage didn't tell anyone. Why should a simple boy who cut grain with a scythe just to care for his little sister Adelite and mom and dad get in trouble just with his curiosity.

Well there was always that small feeling he was seen. That's why the surprise was lessened when he was called.

"Sage Kubovy!"

He didn't even bother looking shocked. Instead Sage started walking to the stage. His gait was long and he scowled further than before. Oh well, Sage was just hoping he could come home. He needed to help Addie.

The mayor blabbered on and on until it was time to seal their fate. Ruby and Sage shook hands, and walked towards the Justice Building, enveloped in the utter silence of the audience.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! I'm not dead everyone. I know a big shocker. I'm sorry this took forever to put up, but I've been up to my head in work. Soccer, sprained ankle, honors classes, tests, science fair. The list goes on. But here's the next chapter! **

**One more chapter devoted to the Reapings and then we get to the good stuff. And I'm not giving p here, even if it looks like I disappeared. If you see any mistakes or don't understand anything just ask.**

**Don't forget to review! I enjoy reading all of them.**

**~littleblessing**


	5. Bloody and Scar-Faced

"Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win."

- Sun Tzu

* * *

**District 10- Dragon Bull and Benjamin "Ben" Taurus**

The clopping of hooves down the dusty trail spins whirlwinds of dirt in the wake of a pure black horse making its way around the riding oval for the umpteenth time. Its short hair glistened in the bright sun stretching over District 10, and the horse's long tail waved in the wind as it jumped over the short fence.

The fence, if you can call it that, was simply two tree stumps with a board of wood stretching the gap. The jet black horse, who was named inconsequentially Jet, trotted back around the path.

The rider in turn found this small feat unsatisfying from doing it countless times before. Her tanned face glistened with sweat and her long blonde hair was in a low ponytail hanging by the nape of her neck, allowing her helmet to be slipped onto the top of her head. Dragon was her name.

Dragon was an odd name in District 10, so it also fit this odd girl. She had bright blue eyes and a shy smile, but underneath the wallflower-esque exterior was a hard-willed girl who had learned to deal with the pain from past experiences, and even some current ones.

Dragon taps the horses head twice and Jet comes to a complete stop; years of perfection in training and the reward of seeing her stepsisters envious faces.

The stepsisters. An entirely horrific topic that terrified Dragon of the mere thought of them. Well at least the twins. Summer and Winter, tall, shiny-haired and spiteful things. Summer and Winter are the same age as Dragon, 16, yet pushed her around like she was a kindergartener. They were envious little things.

Then there was Fawn. Dragon couldn't believe that Fawn was even related to the twins. She was quiet, shy, and couldn't harm a fly. Because of her lack of self-confidence, Dragon had given her Maxie, a tan mustang.

Dragon smiled fondly at the memory as she finished hanging the saddle and feeding Jet. On the way out, she patted Mason and Clown, her other two horses, promising herself she would give them a go on the makeshift fence after the Reaping.

Ahh the Reaping. Dragon had kept that thought out of her mind when she had been riding, but now the chance of dying crashed down onto her shoulders as metaphoric weight. The chance of being called was slim, but still the threat hung over everyone's heads.

"There you are sweetie! We're leaving now" Dragon's mum surveys the sweaty girl before her. The plaid shirt stuck to the girl's wet skin, and dust had clad to her jeans and leather cowboy boots. She looked like she was straight from one of Fawn's story books.

"I'm sorry Mum! I got carried away riding!" Clara smiled at her daughter.

"It's ok sweetie. You just don't have any time to change now. We've gotta get going!" Dragon's mum says while grabbing the girl's arm. Dragon is steered away from the front door and back to the dry path.

"Where did Patch get too?" Dragon's mum mutters to herself. Dragon doesn't even try to wonder where her step-dad could've gotten to. He was a slimy suspicious character and nobody could've guessed where he was last night.

Once at the Reaping, the sun was fully in the sky, and Dragon's shirt stuck fully to her, accentuating her chest more than she would've like. Dragon started to make her way towards the front of the table when she is patted on the back. Turning slightly, Dragon glawars at the back of the 18 year old's blonde head. He was facing three other boys who were trying to disguise their guilty smiles. Their so childish, she smiles at the thought.

"I know that was you Rider! Your so stupid, you're not even talking to Max, Goat, and Biller!" Rider turns to face me, his blue eyes shining.

"Well, we kinda figured you'd figure out." Max reasons. Biller rolls his eyes at that and pushes Dragon forward towards the table.

"See you later dudes!" Dragon yells at her older friends. Goat rolls his eyes and Rider smirks as she turns around.

Dragon enjoys being one of the guys. She always has been, and always will. She was never up for girly-girl like her step-sisters, but when they did tease her about her looks it did make Dragon a little self-conscious.

Making her way towards the back of the 16-year-old section, Dragon gets there just as the show begins. The mayor comes forward first, and the escort comes soon after wearing a bright yellow blazer over a coruscating orange top. The sun was blazing overhead making every person looking on stage almost completely blinded.

"Well! Now it is time for the ladies!" The bright escort skipped over to the giant bowl filled with slips of paper. Dragon looked down, suddenly nervous with butterflies flapping around in her stomach. She kicked her boot into the dusty ground. Nerves were getting the better of Dragon who was now trying to take deep breaths that came out more of gasps of air.

Why was she so nervous?

The answer came quick enough. The crowd got silent and the sound of crinkling paper filled town square. Then a false falsetto voice filled the square.

"Dragon Bull!" Oh crap!

* * *

Silence envelopes the crowd. Silence. The one thing in Ben's life that he was used to. He was born into the life of noises to start. Talking, walking, the bustle of town square, but soon he was rejected by his own District.

His thoughts of freedom and roaming undeterred by a forceful Capitol. A place without dictatorship. A place where people had the freedom of speech and rights to believe in what they want. Because that is why Benjamin Taurus' family was dead. Why his tongue was cut out in retaliation for a crime he didn't do, and why Ben knew his name was coming out of that Reaping ball along with that girl who just got called.

Once the tan sun-bleached blonde girl makes it to the stage, fear is evident in her. Her face is a slight green and her hands are shaking constantly. Ben being in the front could just make out her mouthing something to herself, or possibly an audience member: Please don't. I love you too much.

Ben arches an eyebrow as her gaze travels from the front of the girl's to the back of the guy's section. She must know somebody is the only explanation he receives from his observation.

The very glittery escort makes her way to the guy's Reaping bowl. Ben may not be able to speak, but he can still send the Capitol a message. Ben starts walking to the steps of the stage from his place in the 13-year-old section. He climbs them quickly and stands next to the girl Dragon.

By now, the escort is in front of the microphone once again and is staring at Ben. He raises and eyebrow and nods towards the paper still clutched in her perfectly french-tipped nails. Dragon looks at him curiously, wondering what he's doing. Surely not volunteering.

The escort opens the paper, and glances down and goes back to the boy in front of her. When she pronounces the name, it's more from memory then anything and sounds like a question.

"Benjamin Taurus?" Ben nods his head, looks squarely at the girl across from him before he turns around and walks into the Justice Building. Leaving a confused audience and escort to watch the back of his raven-black callick walk away.

Ben hopes his message is sent, and everybody will ponder what had just happened. He did not intend on coming back. Why seek for victory when he didn't need it?. Nobody was here for Ben. He intended on setting up the wood in the fire pit so when it was time, the fire could light easily. So Panem could burn to the ground in time. For how many people are killed in these wretched games.

**District 11- Felicia Evergreen and Gus Cervera**

"C'mon Rosco! Jasmine, stop messing with Evie's hair! I'm sorry Jeremy. Close the door behind you Felicia, honey." Felicia's mom herds the kids onto the muddy path. Water drips off the old shack's roof, making the ancient wooden steps dip down.

"C'mon Jazzy!" Felicia swung her hand down, covering her 7-year-old sister's hand. Jasmine looked up at her taller sister's light brown eyes making a cheeky grin. Her curly brown hair curled around her face and was in two poofy pigtails. Jazzy was a cutie and Felicia's favorite sibling.

Jeremy, the youngest of the Everdeens, toddled over on his chubby legs, keeping his dark eyes on his big sister. "Esha! Esha! Sissy!" His two front teeth were missing and his tongue couldn't pronounce Felicia's name correctly. Jeremy was a close second for favorite sibling.

"I have to go now. I'll see you after the Reaping." Pushing her siblings towards her mother who was currently overwhelmed by the three kids surrounding her. Rosco follows his older sister to the table.

Felicia holds her index finger out to the woman in front of her. She takes it roughly, jerking the point onto a machine-type thing that emits a slight buzz and creates a small sting. Felicia's blood is smeared onto an empty page and a beep gets admitted when the screen reads: Evergreen, Felicia; 16.

The crowd carried Felicia close enough to her destination before she had to push and elbow her slim frame through the crowd. Her destination was where her best friend, Jenny Mokezume was waiting. Her dark hair was in one long five strand braid that went straight down like a mohawk. Felicia's straight light brown hair was treated about the same with a five strand braid wrapping around her head into a ponytail on her left side.

"Hey Jenny!" Felicia chirps. Jenny turns to face her best friend.

"That dress looks awfully familiar," Jenny says with a sly grin. Felicia bumps her shoulder into her best friend and they both start to giggle. Their habit of sharing clothes was comical at times when Felicia happened to wear anything that was along the lines of skirts or dresses. In fact she was wearing a white dress currently that contrasted deeply with her cocoa brown skin.

The mayor stepped forward at that moment, leaving the girls to end their conversation abruptly. Felicia was standing in the town square for the fourth time in her life wondering if today was day. Even though most people found the entire set-up a drag, every detail popped out to Felicia.

Younger teens, anxiously bouncing on the balls of their feet. Camera men, rolling their eyes at the eccentric escort. Everything was seen and heard by this girl, and everything was making her attention so acute to every movement and sneaker scuffle. She was almost in a daze. The information was one of her only skills. Seeing and hearing. Cataloguing and remembering.

"There was once a place called North America. But droughts and fires, hurricanes and tornadoes, and encroaching seas took their toll. Brutal wars broke out as people fought for the few remaining resources. The earth was scarred and desolate, the people terrified and hopeless." The mayors monotonic voice carried throughout the square. He keeps his eyes downwards on a scroll in his hands.

"But out of the ashes and the wreckage rose Panem, a nation made up of a great Capitol, surrounded by 13 districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens for many generations." Felicia nearly snorts at this line. Great Capitol? Peace and prosperity? It seemed like a joke in her mind. District 11 was monitored so closely with all their food they produced, before and after the rebellion.

By now, the escort had stepped up to the microphone. Her magenta lips curved into a wide smile stretching as far as her plastic-surgery-redone face could go. She looked like a groosling with her beak-like lips.

"And the girl with the honor of representing District 11 this year is… Felicia Evergreen!" Her smile stretched wider if even possible as the name was called.

Felicia clenched her fist and started up the path to her death. She might as well start to try, even though everyone knows: you have to believe you can if you want to actually win, and she wasn't believing.

* * *

A girl with a complicated braid moves up the stage as Gus watched from near the back of the crowd of teens. He watches as Felicia climbed the stairs and took her place next to the escort. The escort smiled and Felicia grimaced slightly.

Shaking his head of wild curls, Gus tried to pay attention to the stage, but kept glancing around. He starts tapping his foot, looking around at his fellow classmates.

He glanced back to the escort prancing over to the boy's reaping ball, then dipping her hand into the bin. Papers crinkle, and the silence overcoming District 11 made Gus tap his foot louder than before.

Tap! Tap! Tap! The noise carries among the silence. Why can't this be over already? Gus has to be one of the most impatient people there are.

"Gus Cervera!" Well at least this was over. Gus hopped up to the stage, trying not to let his cheeky smile disappear entirely. Might as well start the act.

"Well, well, well! You must be Gus!" Gus nodded, still keeping the fake smile on his face. He didn't want to be sniffling on camera. He wanted to be counted in. He could climb trees, he could identify plants, he could win this thing. At least that's what Gus told himself as he entered the Justice Building.

**District 12- Natasha Lucky Donton and Oscric Huang**

"No… No… Please stop!" Natasha's voice carried through the hollow house until it reached Kevin, her older brother in the kitchen. He was the victor of the 8th Hunger Games and his little sister was all he had.

Mom dying in childbirth to Bobie, Dad dying from exhaustion, Antoinette dying from chicken pox at age 5, Bobie being chased for ten hours in the arena at age 12 until he was decapitated. It was a wonder on how Kevin had survived the games to come back to Natasha.

No wonder she had nightmares along with her older brother.

Yawning, Kevin gave into the screams muffled by the down pillow from the upstairs bedroom. He made his way upstairs to be greeted by Natasha writhing in bed, teeth clenched and tears spurting from the corners of her closed eyes. Her pale skin was ghostly white and her blonde hair was in a knotty disarray.

Natasha woke with a start, and empty sobs racked her thin frame.

"She was chasing him again." Her words were barely discernible, but Kevin knew it was the same dream as always. The District One girl, Kitty is her name he recalls. Every Hunger Games Kevin has to put up with her narcissistic comments and shallow comments. Some idiots even persuaded her to get cat ears.

Natasha continued sobbing in her brother's arms until the sun was up in the sky announcing noon. By now, Natasha was hiccuping slightly and rubbing her puffy eyes.

"Is it time to go to the Reaping?" she croaked. Kevin nodded mutely and Natasha gets set down on her own bed-sheet strewn bed. She nods for him to leave and gets up.

Natasha changes into a dark blue dress to match her haunting eyes and stands in front of the mirror. She couldn't help but let her eyes wander over her sickly pale skin and thin frame. Every bone was a knob on her six foot frame.

She grabbed her black flats she had gotten as a gift from the Capitol fans that had loved the Dontons. Natasha slipped the shoes on and ran out the door, not bothering to stop for her brother knowing his attendance is mandatory and prefered early.

Natasha ran to the center of town and got there in record time thanks to her amazing ability to sprint with her long strides and skill of jumping over slums laying in the street and debris placed haphazardly on the cobblestone path.

Panting heavily, Natasha slid in front of the table and had her finger pricked quickly so she could move to her section before the show began. Too late.

"Welcome District 12! Are you guys ready to start the Reaping?" One guy yelled back, "Go back to the Capitol!" Other than that, it was silent.

Natasha slipped into the 15-year-old girl's section, making her way to the red-headed twins across the crowd.

Jone and Lucy looked exactly the same exactly five foot making them a foot smaller than Natasha, straight ginger hair going passed their shoulder blades, freckles sprayed across their faces and arms, and dark eyes.

"There you are!" Jone whispered as the video started playing on the screen.

"Where were you?" Lucy whispered next.

"Had another nightmare. Sorry I was late guys!" Natasha whispered back to her best friends. The twins looked up at her narrowing their eyes.

"Time for the lucky lady's name to be called!" The escort said on stage. She clicked her way over to the Reaping bowl, hooked the first name she could find, and clicked her way back to the microphone.

"Natasha Lucky Donton!" Natasha's name rings through the crowd. People's head's turn. Jone and Lucy burst into tears. Kevin's face pales drastically. And Natasha stands there bewildered.

All she is thinking is how it could be her. She stumbles forward, and the girls in front move away. She has been sentenced to death. Making her way to the steps, she trips on her way up. Her knees collide with the hard wooden steps, but she feels no pain.

She continues to make her way up to the stage, not noticing the blood pouring freely from her cuts. Natasha is special, she has an insensitivity to pain. She doesn't feel pain and has never experienced it before. She skips meals freely, not worry about the hunger that would've torn up her stomach.

She never cried when she bit the tip of her tongue off when she was 3. She didn't flinch when she accidentally stuck her hand into the boiling water when she was 8, trying to place the rice in without splashing. Natasha didn't even worry when she accidently broke her arm when she was 14. So she didn't even notice when blood dripped down her legs.

No pain, no gain, right? That must be why she is here.

* * *

Oscric watched with rapt attention as the girl on stage walks over to the escort. Blood was pouring out of her knees like ruby waterfalls. She didn't even flinch.

He continued to watch her tall, pale figure walk across the stage, unbothered by the most likely painful cuts.

The escort looked disgusted by the trail Natasha had left, on the stage, so the escort quickly escaped over to the boy's Reaping ball. She took as much time as she could, swirling the slips of paper around like a witch stirs its cauldron full of potion.

She hesitantly caught a slip of paper between her two fingers and pulled it out into the air.

Oscric watched with bated breath, hoping beyond hope that it isn't his name. His life is already screwed up, it doesn't need to be worse. At least that's what Oscric believed.

When Oscric was little, his mother, a small asian women with curly hair, died. Starved to death because nobody could provide for their family. She died in her sleep. Her hands turned cold and stiff, her eyes closed, almost peaceful, but not quite.

Oscric's father died next. It was a mining accident. The canary stopped singing, and the mine exploded. It was the tragedy that sent Oscric and his older brother Hung to their grandmother's house. When she died of old age, the Huangs moved onto the street, living off scraps and going to sleep hungry on the dusty ground.

The first couple months of living on the street were rough for Oscric, but somehow he survived. Stealing and fighting were his specialties. That was until he got sick. Luckily enough he had passed out in front of the herbal shop. They had given him pity.

Oscric watched the escort unfolded the paper and clear her throat over the microphone.

Oscric brushes his spiky black hair off his forehead, brushing the scar tissue on his face. Scar tissue from third degree burns covered his face arms, neck, chest, legs. Scars were covering every spare inch of skin.

"Oscric Huang!"

"What? No!" He yelled out. His face paled considerably and his asian style eyes were wide with worry. He spun to face the back of the crowd now, his eyes landing on his equally scarred brother. His face was blank and unreadable. He didn't care. He wouldn't risk his life for family again. Like he did in that fire.

Oscric turned to the stage again, all eyes on him, and started to walk to the steps. Peacekeepers escorted him next to the escort. The next time Oscric looked at Hung, he avoided the accusing gaze. Hung was 18-years-old and with Oscric younger by two years he had a lesser chance of survival.

Natasha stared at Oscric's face in wonder, then looked down embarrassed. That was when her eyes widened in alarm from all the blood. She looked shocked and confused. Ha!

Bloody and scar-faced, District 12 definitely stood out this year.

**A/N: Hello everyone! My soccer schedule is clearing up so more updates! I'm so excited, I finally finished the Reapings! Next will be goodbyes and then we start the pregames. In the pregames there will be one POV section each for each character.**

**In my bio there is a poll, so vote for who you think will win. It will be part of my decision on who will win, so vote! Thanks Everybody!**

**~littleblessing**


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